


that perches in the soul

by futuresoon



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Last of Us Fusion, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Established Relationship, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, no knowledge of The Last of Us necessary, other characters will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-20 20:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11928420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuresoon/pseuds/futuresoon
Summary: The apocalypse started the year Noctis was born. These days, all he wants to do is survive with his friends. The universe, it turns out, has bigger plans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Emily Dickinson's ""Hope" is the Thing with Feathers".

Slouched against the wall of a convenience store, Noctis stares at his forearm.

He’s not sure why he wanted to get a proper look at it. Feeling it is enough. Seeing it just makes the reality of it stand out even more, forces him to face what it means.

He takes a shuddering breath and puts his head in his hands. Just a few moments--he can have a few moments for a few breaths. Then he stands up and begins picking through the store. He avoids looking at the body a few feet from the entrance.

His own gun is out of ammo now, emptied at the one that got him. Of course the store has been picked clean already, probably years ago--no guns, no ammo, not even any knives. He doesn’t have his own knife, either; he didn’t have time to grab his pack before the horde came and he had to run. So there’s nothing. 

Well, there are the windows. They’re already broken, jagged slices of razor-sharp glass sticking up in the empty frames and littered on the ground. He could use that. Find something to wrap his hand in, pick up one of the pieces. 

He doesn’t really want to do that.

There are some other outposts he could probably walk to within a few hours. But they’ll be picked clean too, and also he’d be outside by himself for a few hours and with no weapons. Though it’s not like anything worse could happen to him than already has.

The way he sees it, he has two options.

He can bleed out in an abandoned convenience store, and hope that if the others find his body they’ll at least be proud of him for finding a way out with limited resources.

Or he can _not_ bleed out in an abandoned convenience store, and hope his friends never find what’s left of him.

He isn’t a coward. He just--it’d be such a _sad_ end. Dying alone far away from his friends. They’ve all worked so hard to survive. The thought of ending it all because of one stupid mistake is…

Maybe someone else will come. Maybe they won’t have to be the ones to do it. 

Maybe he’s a little bit of a coward, when there’s no one around to believe he isn’t.

He sits back down and puts his head on his knees and prays to every god he can think of.

An hour passes, maybe. He’s not sure. Maybe it’s two hours. Three. Four. The sun’s going down. It’s getting dark. 

He got here in the morning.

He stares at his arm. It’s started to scab over, less of an angry red than it was before. All the freshly turned he’s ever seen were still bleeding.

It takes a few hours after that for the others to find him. He’s sitting cross-legged now, reading an old magazine he found. Small favors; the store owner must have thought there’d be an audience for _Anglers Monthly_ out here.

The looks on their faces quickly flip from relieved to horrified to confused. He puts down the magazine and stands up.

“Hey guys,” Noctis says with a shaky smile and a wave, the bite wound on his lower arm both visibly present and visibly healing. “We should probably have a group meeting.”

\---

Ignis is the first one to say something.

“How long ago was it?” he asks, his voice remarkably steady, but that’s Ignis for you.

“This morning,” Noctis says. “Maybe twelve hours ago.” He gestures towards the corpse near the door. “I got the one that bit me, but that was my last bullet. So I couldn’t really…” He trails off.

They get it. Prompto’s eyes look a little wet.

“We don’t know exactly how long it takes to turn,” Gladio says, his eyes not leaving Noctis’ arm, his body stiff. “Could be a full day.”

“I’ve never heard about bites healing, though,” Prompto says. “And I’ve never seen an infected with a scar. _Something’s_ different.” He swallows. “But--maybe I just want it to be different.”

Noctis never thought he was special. Maybe he grew up with more resources than most people, but it’s not like being the mayor’s son makes you superhuman. He’s just some guy. Except apparently he isn’t.

“I’ve seen a fair number of the newly bitten in my day,” Ignis says. “They developed fevers and headaches within the first six hours, and then they became highly aggressive. Noct, by contrast, seems quite stable.”

“I feel fine,” Noctis says. “No headaches or anything. Well, I was kinda freaked out at first, but I don’t think that means anything.”

Prompto laughs, sort of, not really. “It’d be weirder if you weren’t,” he says. He scrubs his face with the back of his arm. _“Shit,_ man, all day we thought--and then the moment we found you we saw the bite, and…”

“It was not a pleasant moment, particularly after a harrowing day,” Ignis says quietly.

Noctis stares down at his arm. “Wasn’t a pleasant day for me either,” he says.

A silence falls, just for a few seconds. Then he finds Prompto’s arms around him, Prompto’s head pressed against his neck. “But it’s over now,” Prompto says, steel in his voice. “We’re back together, and maybe something weird’s going on, but we can deal with it together.”

“Indeed,” Ignis says, joining in. After a moment, Gladio follows. Surrounded on all sides, Noctis finds every trace of tension drain out of him. It’s foolish to feel invincible, but it’s always felt like they could take on almost anything, if they were together.

Prompto’s eyes aren’t the only wet ones.

\---

The question is, what do they do now?

\---

Supposedly, there’s a research lab in Altissia.

There was one in Insomnia, but. It’s probably empty now.

Noctis was never privy to the details, but sometimes people would visit his dad and talk about how progress was or wasn’t happening--usually wasn’t--and they mentioned corresponding with Altissia. So he knows there’s _something_ there, even if he doesn’t know exactly what, and even if anyone trying to correspond with Insomnia is out of luck these days.

The quarantine zone in Insomnia held out until about a year ago, when a few stupid mistakes led to a horde of infected breaking through the gates. Noctis had only been outside a few times, before then. The mayor’s son got special privileges. Turns out those don’t mean anything outside. Not that he’d expected them to.

So instead he’s here, holed up with his friends in a convenience store somewhere in Leide, talking about how there’s supposedly a research lab in Altissia.

“I don’t know how much they could actually do there,” Ignis says. Behind the glasses, his eyes are as calculating as ever, a glimmer of the police detective he used to be. “But it’s certainly more than any random outpost, and we’re hardly going back to Lestallum.”

Prompto winces at the name. “Yeah, let’s not do that,” he says. Lestallum is…survivable, but quarantine zones that don’t have a Mayor Caelum to keep everything sane are police states at best. The month they spent there was more than enough.

There are a lot of reasons Noctis misses his dad.

“Besides, it’s not like we were gonna stick around here,” Gladio points out. “Altissia’s as good a place to go as any.” Lestallum would have been even worse without Gladio. Mayor Caelum’s private security was already a force to be reckoned with, and being built like a brick shithouse was enough to make most soldiers have second thoughts.

There is, of course, one large flaw in the plan, or at least one large hurdle: to get to Altissia, they need a boat. 

There are only a couple places Noctis can think of that might have one of those, and he’s never been to either of them.

“We should try Galdin Quay,” Noctis says. “It’s not that far. At least, that’s what my dad said when he talked about it sometimes.” Noctis remembers his dad telling him about watching the sunset over the water, eating good food in the sea air. It always sounded nice.

“Whatever we do, it’ll have to wait until morning,” Ignis says. He zips open his pack and starts rummaging through it. If Noctis had to say one good thing about Lestallum, it would be that the rations weren’t awful. Not as good as Insomnia’s, but a few actual flavors, and sometimes dried fruit. When they left, they didn’t take many supplies with them they didn’t already own; they couldn’t steal anything from people who needed it, and people who didn’t need it tended to take it from the others anyway. But they did manage to get their hands on a good amount of salt.

Combine salt, the sun, and the collapsible fishing pole and tackle Noctis happened to be carrying when they had to escape Insomnia, and any time they’re near a body of water, Noctis and Ignis can put together some pretty good dried fish. Right now, they pass around the remains of a phoenix bass. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s still better than protein bars and decade-old jerky.

As Noctis swallows a chewy bite of his fish, something occurs to him. “Hey, do you think Luna might be there?” he asks.

“It’s certainly a possibility,” Ignis says with a thoughtful expression. “Last we heard of her, she was in Tenebrae. Perhaps she decided to apply her talents to a higher cause.”

“Sounds like something she’d do,” Prompto says. “I wonder if she ever got that medical degree she wanted.”

“Depends on the education system in Tenebrae,” Gladio says. “But if she’s at a lab, she’s probably getting a lot of hands-on experience.”

Noctis looks out through the shattered windows into a dark that stretches much farther than he can see. “I hope she’s okay,” he says.

“Pssh, she’ll be fine,” Prompto says. He takes another bite and keeps talking. “She’sh really shmart ’n all.”

“Please don’t talk and chew at the same time, Prompto,” Ignis says wearily, though he’s said it enough times to know that Prompto never listens.

“Shorry, Iggy,” Prompto says, swallowing. “Even if she isn’t in Altissia, I bet we could find her once we’re in Accordo.”

It’s a nice thought. They don’t get a lot of nice things, but without a little hope that maybe everything won’t be completely awful, going without niceness would be even harder. So Noctis hopes Luna will be there, and that she’ll be okay, and maybe she’ll know what to do. In his memories of when they were kids, she always seemed like she knew what to do.

They finish their meal, running out of this particular phoenix bass but still having more for later, and cap their half-empty water bottles. Salted fish might last a long time, but it makes you kinda thirsty. Every day, Noctis mentally thanks whoever might be listening that one of the few things they could grab while escaping Insomnia was a water purifier.

“I’ll take first watch,” Gladio says, pulling the tightly-rolled blankets from his pack and handing them around. “Get some sleep, Noct.”

Noctis has the sneaking suspicion that watch tonight will be in three shifts instead of four, but he doesn’t complain. Today’s been pretty tiring.

He ends up between Ignis and Prompto, backs against a clean patch of the store’s back wall, hidden from outside view by a shelf of scattered cleaning supplies. It’s cold out, but the blankets help, as does the warmth from both sides.

Noctis drifts off to sleep, closing his eyes on the sight of Gladio standing guard against the world.

\---

The next day, they start formulating a plan.

So far, they’ve been going from outpost to outpost. There aren’t many infected in those, if any at all; they’re more concentrated in areas with a lot of people, and the outposts are pretty remote. Everyone who stayed there in the early days either moved to somewhere less exposed or became part of the reason the others needed to move in the first place. Years later, they’re empty of supplies, but the stores are still standing and sometimes even a caravan is still there. Not at this particular outpost. Someone must have driven it somewhere, back when gas for civilians was still a thing.

According to the map, there are a few outposts between here and Galdin Quay. So if they just keep doing what they’ve been doing, and do it in that direction, they should probably make it there okay. Probably. 

“Be sure to tell us if your wound is acting oddly,” Ignis says, while they’re packing up and getting ready to head out.

“Yeah,” Noctis says with a nod, standing up with his pack. He’s tempted to make it sarcastic with an _I know,_ but for some reason he doesn’t really feel like joking when it comes to this.

“And we should find something to cover it with besides a bandage,” Ignis continues. “Any obvious indicator of a wound will be highly suspicious.”

Prompto pops up from behind one of the shelves. “Actually, I gotcha covered on that one,” he says. “Uh, literally. Most of the medical stuff here is gone, but I guess people didn’t see a need for this one.” He waves a black wrist brace in the air. “It’s even in your favorite color.”

Noctis lets himself crack a smile at that one. He walks over and takes the brace from Prompto, looking it over. “This should work,” he says. “Just let me get bandaged before I put it on.” Even if it’s dry by this point, they really, really don’t want to risk an infection.

With gauze securely wrapped around the bite mark, Noctis maneuvers his arm into the wrist brace. It covers the bandage completely, plus most of his lower arm, and ends like a fingerless glove. He flexes his fingers to see how much mobility he has. It’ll do. And now he doesn’t have to worry about carpal tunnel. Not that he would with his left arm, but still.

“Now that that’s sorted out, let’s get moving,” Gladio says. “It’ll take a couple days to get to Galdin Quay, assuming we don’t run into any trouble on the way.”

Assuming. Their luck’s been pretty good so far, except for yesterday, though maybe that sort of qualifies as lucky after all. For humanity, maybe. Which does include them. But at any rate, Noctis knows better than to assume. He always assumed Insomnia would last forever.

He looks over at the dead infected, still lying a few feet from the entrance. They hadn’t moved it. No need to risk spores. He wonders if that person thought they were lucky, up until they weren’t. 

Noctis straps on his pack and sets out.

\---

They’ve just arrived at the next outpost, walking past the gas pumps towards the store, when they hear a telltale hitched moan.

Gladio, in front, raises his hand just above his shoulder, and they go still. They all listen as best they can without getting closer--the sound isn’t getting any nearer, so the infected must not be able to see them yet. Whether that’s because it’s blocked by an object or it just isn’t looking their way can’t be determined.

Gladio gestures forward, and they follow silently and slowly. As they get closer to the store, they can see through the shattered windows a figure standing with its back to them. If they make a sound, it’ll likely hear and turn around to see them, and it’s close enough that they’ll only have maybe ten seconds to react before it’s on them.

But they’re very good at being quiet, honed after eleven months of travel and years of training. They all look at each other. They don’t say a word, but Prompto nods, and silently pulls the bow and quiver from his pack.

He’s the best shot of all of them at basically anything. Without making a noise, he notches an arrow and aims the bow, perfectly steady. 

When he releases the arrow, it flies straight at the infected and hits it square in the head. The infected falls over with a gurgle, not even twitching as it goes down.

They wait a few moments. No further sound or movement comes from the store.

With that, they all breathe a sigh of relief. They stay quiet, though, and move towards the store slowly. Ignis is the first to spot it--“Hold,” he says, and they all stop. He points towards the store counter, and they see a faint cloud of yellow in the air.

Prompto puts back his bow and quiver. Without saying a word, they all unclip the gas masks from their packs and put them on, though Noctis hesitates, unsure if he actually needs it anymore.

They’re still silent and slow as they enter the store. Once they’re finally inside it, they see the culprit--a slumped body behind the counter, surrounded by and half covered in ugly fungi. A yellow cloud of spores fills the air around it.

It’s just as silent as they are, though, and doesn’t seem to be breathing, so it’s not a threat. As long as they’re wearing their masks, anyway.

The other infected is on the ground, not breathing either. So the store’s clear. Not somewhere they could stay in, but clear.

Prompto finally speaks up. “Looks like this place is a dud,” he says, stooping down and retrieving his arrow. He wipes the blood off on a hand towel lying on one of the shelves before he puts it back in the quiver. 

“Yeah,” Noctis says, nodding. “No supplies, either. Unless you want to keep that towel.”

Prompto makes a face. “Dude,” he says.

“There’s something I’m curious about,” Ignis says, looking at Noctis. “Are you immune to the spores now as well?”

Noctis shrugs. “Hell if I know,” he says. “I don’t feel like testing it.”

“Understandable,” Ignis says with a nod. “Besides, if we happen to come across anyone else in a spore-ridden area, it would be quite the problem for them to see you not wearing a mask.”

Not that they meet a whole lot of people out here. Besides the infected, anyway.

“Back to the road, guys,” Gladio says, jerking his thumb at the outside. “No point sticking around here.”

And so they continue.

\---

Their next stop, an hour or so later, isn’t at an outpost. Not far off the road, they see a small group of anak, loitering around and nibbling idly on tree leaves.

“Think we can give it a go?” Gladio asks.

Prompto rolls his eyes. “Please,” he says. 

Anak are dumb enough that they can get to the edge of the road without attracting attention. Prompto readies the bow, aims, and gets another headshot. The anak topples to the ground, long neck swaying, and the others scatter in panic. 

“Perfect, as always,” Ignis murmurs, and Prompto grins.

They make their way across the grass to the new corpse. This one’s a lot bigger than the infected, but there’s nothing to worry about here. It’s just an animal, untouched by the ravage of humanity.

Ignis pulls out his knife and kneels. They each have a hunting knife, procured from an illicit but helpful vendor in Lestallum, and while they still get their intended use, they’re helpful in other ways, too. He slices off a wide swath of skin and fur from the anak’s thigh, discarding it with the bloody side up, and cuts into the exposed flesh beneath, removing several chunks and laying them down on the bloody inner skin before cutting them into smaller pieces. Blood pools on the ground, but he shifts a little to avoid it getting on his shoes.

He stands up and wipes the bloody knife on the animal’s side. “Best get to work on the rest,” he says.

Leide might have stretches of desert, but there’s usually some scrub brush around, and here there’s plenty. Everyone picks a patch and starts cutting off the thin, dry branches, shredding them into pieces as small as they can manage.

Once they’ve got enough, they go to a nearby patch of dirt, large enough to avoid any grass getting caught up in it. They dump the twigs on the ground unceremoniously. Gladio takes some flint out of his pack and sets to work.

It’s slow, but the twigs don’t smoke, and after a while there’s a decent fire going. Ignis pulls four metal skewers and some slightly wrinkled peppers out of his pack, and carefully cuts the peppers into pieces before handing them and the skewers around. Everyone stabs a few pieces of meat and pepper and sits back, holding them over the fire.

Noctis has read about camping trips. Their life for the past eleven months hasn’t been quite like those, but toasting marshmallows was apparently a pretty big thing back then, and this is sort of like that. It just takes longer. And isn’t as sticky.

“According to the map, we should make it to the next outpost by sundown,” Ignis says, carefully turning his skewer. “Hopefully there won’t be any trouble on the way. How are we on ammo?”

“A lot worse off than we were two days ago,” Gladio says, frowning. “If we see any crowds, we better take the long way around.”

“I’m still good on arrows,” Prompto says. He already reclaimed the one from the anak. 

_“My_ ammo supply hasn’t dropped much,” Noctis says wryly. Most of it was still in his pack.

Ignis half-smiles. “At least there’s that. So we’re better off on stealth until we find another source of ammunition. Do you think there will be anyone remaining at Galdin Quay?”

“Dunno,” Noctis says with a shrug. “Could be some people decided to stay there, if it was a hotel.”

“Two things to think about,” Prompto says. “One, if people are there, they might be willing to trade for ammo, but they might not be willing to trade for a boat. Two, if people _aren’t_ there, there might still be a boat, but there won’t be any ammo. So we shouldn’t get our hopes up for both.”

“Or three, there’s nobody there and there’s no ammo _or_ a boat,” Gladio says. “We shouldn’t get our hopes up for anything, honestly.”

Noctis checks on his skewer. The meat’s brown on the outside, but probably not cooked through enough yet, and the edges of the pepper haven’t blackened. “Well, however it goes, at least there’ll be fishing,” he says lightly.

Prompto snorts. “One-track mind, dude,” he says.

Noctis decides not to respond to that.

The skewers finally finish. They’re saving the salt for drying, but the peppers add enough flavor to the meat that no spices are required. “Man, Iggy,” Gladio says, an appreciative look on his face after swallowing his first bite. “I know I say this every time, but you know your stuff.”

Ignis adjusts his glasses. “Yes, well, when I was younger I had the option of either eating nothing but takeout or learning how to not die of malnutrition, and I chose the one that ended up being useful in the apocalypse. I’m just happy to help.”

“See, I also had that choice, but I picked the other one,” Prompto points out. “So clearly a certain level of intelligence is required. I don’t even wanna think about trying to survive by myself out here.”

“We all have our uses,” Ignis says with a slight smile. “You’re certainly a faster learner than the rest of us.”

“And my use is apparently to be the savior of humanity,” Noctis says. He chews a bite of meat and tries to focus on his food.

The others are quiet for a few moments too. Eventually, Prompto says, “Also there’s the fishing.”

Noctis cracks a smile. “I guess that too,” he says.

The conversation starts up again, peaceful and entertaining and a reminder of the only reason Noctis stayed sane after the fall of Insomnia. Even in a world of terrible things, Noctis finds himself relaxing. There are good things too, and he’s lucky enough to have found some.

The wound on his arm continues to slowly scar, and the infection continues not to spread, and maybe it’s not going to be easy, but for the first time in a year, Noctis allows himself to think that maybe the end of the world isn’t here yet after all.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun is just barely dipping past the horizon once they arrive at the next outpost.

Noctis doesn’t know if he’s ever going to get used to it--seeing the sunset and sunrise in the outside world, edges brushing against grass or trees or rocks instead of buildings. Insomnia did have grass and trees and much smaller rocks, but the horizon was always cut off by the hard angles of roofs. Here, not only can he see the sun touch the ground, it’s only ever blocked by inconsistent, natural shapes.

And always seeing it with Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio--that’s new, too.

Everything got a lot less complicated, when it was just the four of them with no professional or social boundaries.

Insomnia will always feel like a lost limb, but--in some ways, he feels a lot steadier on his feet than he used to.

Surprisingly, the windows of this particular store aren’t broken. There’s even a caravan, and while there’s the faint remains of dried mud on the outside and dust coating the inside, the bunks are only slightly mussed.

There is, admittedly, a long streak of dried blood leading from the far end of the floor out through the open door and onto the dirt, but as long as they don’t lick it it’s probably fine.

“I wonder what the story is here,” Prompto says as he peers around the inside of the caravan. “Was someone dragged out? Infected usually don’t do much dragging.”

“Could’ve been someone dragging out a dead body and not bothering to clean up afterwards,” Noctis suggests. 

Prompto makes a noncommittal noise. Then he says, “Hold up, I wanna get a record of this. The Mostly Untouched Caravan With Only A Moderate Amount Of Blood. It’s practically a living legend.” He digs around in his pack for his camera and holds it up, pressing the on button and waiting for it to start up.

“How are you on batteries, by the way?” Noctis asks.

“So long as I don’t leave it on all the time, I’ll still be good for a while,” Prompto replies. He raises the camera to his eye and taps a button on top. Back in Insomnia, he had a bigger one, before space was at a premium. He seems just as happy with the old model they scrounged up in Lestallum, though, even if it’s about the size and shape of a cassette tape. 

“Perfect,” Prompto says, lowering the camera. “Wanna pose by the door?”

“Sure, but just for the record, you can’t take any pictures of the bite,” Noctis says. Mostly he’s joking. Mostly.

“I promise I’ll wait until humanity is saved and your war wound is a matter of public record,” Prompto says. “Unless maybe the lab people will want some progress shots of how it healed over time? I mean if it’s for science then--”

Noctis taps Prompto’s nose. Prompto starts back with an undignified squawk. “No,” Noctis says in a measured tone. Then he exits the caravan to see if the others need any help setting up for the night. They won’t be staying in the caravan; not enough room inside to maneuver if they get caught there.

Gladio’s already got the blankets behind the counter. There’s plenty of open space in this store, meaning they’d be visible to anyone who passed by if they were in the middle of it. Fortunately, they’re fine with close quarters. It’s preferable, actually, when it gets cold at night and they can’t risk leaving an open fire.

There isn’t actually much to set up, generally speaking. They don’t have any camping equipment besides the blankets. They had a gas lantern for a few weeks, but without any regular source of gas, it was just dead weight, so they left it behind. Same with an old camp stove they found one time, even if Ignis needed almost a full minute to mourn not being able to take it.

“Just fish for tonight, I’m afraid,” Ignis says, glancing up at Noctis from behind the counter, where he’s unpacking the food. 

Noctis nods. He hadn’t expected anything else. 

Prompto, having recovered from the caravan, leans against the counter and sighs. “Remember pizza?” he asks. “Or curry? I’m pretty sure I would literally kill someone for anything from that curry place back home.”

“I do miss french fries,” Noctis admits.

“Insomnia was very well-off, compared to the other quarantine zones,” Ignis says. “From what I hear, Gralea was on starvation rations.”

“Well, good thing we’re not in Gralea,” Gladio says while he sits against a wall cleaning his pistol. 

_“No one’s_ in Gralea,” Noctis says wryly.

“Lestallum may have been markedly unpleasant, but its citizens have yet to reach the breaking point,” Ignis says. “And I suppose some people would say it served Gralea right.”

Prompto speaks up. “They didn’t _mean_ to, though,” he says quietly. “There’s no way they thought this was gonna happen. And they had it worse than anywhere, too.”

“Doesn’t matter what their motivations were,” Gladio says, his mouth twisting down. “They deserved everything they got.”

Prompto goes quiet after that.

Noctis settles down next to Ignis. “How much longer do you think it is to Galdin Quay?” he asks.

“Tomorrow afternoon, if we keep up our pace,” Ignis replies. “How’s your wound doing?”

Noctis pulls off the brace and undoes the bandage, which should be changed anyway. “Still healing,” he says. “Doesn’t hurt or anything.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s the pedestrian kind of infected, either,” Ignis says, peering at it. “Though I recommend keeping it bandaged until the scar sets in. The texture of the brace may irritate it.”

“Good call.” Noctis opens his pack and pulls out his share of the gauze, wrapping it around the bite mark. With the brace on, it just looks like he has an injured wrist. He wonders if he’d be any good at faking pain if an outsider bumped into it.

Prompto slides over the countertop and lands next to Noctis. “How about one of just the brace?” he says, a hopeful look creeping into his eyes. “It’d look like I’m just memorializing my best friend finding a way to heal an injury in this tragic time.”

Noctis sighs half-heartedly. “Fine,” he says. “Just one, though.”

“Great! C’mon, I wanna get the right angle.”

Ignis and Gladio watch, amused. “Glad to know you’re having fun,” Gladio says.

“I’m also pretty sure I’d kill someone for a working arcade machine,” Prompto says cheerfully, angling the camera.

Honestly, Noctis sorta agrees with that one.

The evening passes peaceably. They run out of fish, but they’ve got protein bars, and they should be able to stock up at Galdin Quay tomorrow. 

“I’ll take first watch,” Noctis says, silently daring any of them to disagree. But they look like they expected it. He’s usually the first anyway, morning-averse as he is.

They say their goodnights, and he leans against a back shelf in the store, visible to anyone who’s looking but with a better sight range than anyone who isn’t. He keeps the flashlight clipped to his jacket off. It’d be as much of a hindrance as a help.

The night’s quiet. It usually is. Without the others immediately around him, it gives him space to think.

He doesn’t know what’s waiting at Galdin Quay. Maybe they won’t find anything, like Gladio said yesterday. 

Maybe the bite’s just taking a little longer than usual.

What’s it like, in the mind of an infected? Are your thoughts completely scrambled, or are you still in there somewhere? There’s no proof that they maintain any semblance of who they used to be, but no one knows for sure, since you can’t exactly ask them. 

Noctis wonders if just because he’s not affected by the infection himself doesn’t mean he can’t pass it on to others.

Maybe he should--

No. They’d never let him leave on his own. And he doesn’t really want to, anyway. It’s just an idle thought in the dark.

A darkness which now has a sound in it.

A sort of rattling click, repeating every few seconds.

Noctis stays perfectly still. Moving right now could be very, very bad.

It finally comes into view, the rough shape of a person moving jerkily in the dark. It’s far enough away that he could probably move to wake up the others without being noticed--except it’s not sight that he’s worried about. If he makes even the slightest noise, it’ll go straight for him.

The plates of yellow fungi sprouting from where its face used to be are just barely visible now that he’s focusing on it. It keeps moving down the road, clicking as it goes. He almost doesn’t dare to breathe.

He could wait until it was farther away and then wake up the others, let Prompto have a go at it--but in this darkness, even his aim would be terrible. No, it’s better to leave it alone. Let it wander down the road and away from them.

It’s not a comforting thought, knowing that there’s one out there--one that might decide to stop just outside of his hearing range and still be there in the morning--but he can’t do anything about it right now.

The clicking gradually fades into the night.

When it’s time to change shifts, he wakes up Gladio and whispers, “A clicker came by a couple hours ago. It didn’t come close to the store, and I stopped hearing it after a few minutes.”

Gladio exhales. “Shit,” he whispers. “Well, I’ll let Prompto know when I get him up. Go to sleep. Hopefully it’ll keep passing on.”

Hopefully. Noctis settles into the blankets, disquieted. But he falls asleep all the same. 

\---

“No sign of it,” Gladio says the next morning, coming back from a quick patrol. “Can’t tell if it kept moving the whole night, but wherever it is now, it’s not close enough to be a threat.”

Noctis breathes a sigh of relief. He’s not a fan of clickers. Pretty much nobody is, anywhere, at all, but living outside a quarantine zone for eleven months means he’s seen more than most people. Most sane people, anyway. People who, for example, do not decide to live outside a quarantine zone.

Ignis starts passing around protein bars. “We should be careful when we leave, just in case,” he says. “There’s not much cover in the area, but if it happens to be standing behind a tree and hears us coming before we see it, that would be an issue.”

“By the way, I don’t volunteer to be a human shield,” Noctis says. “Just in case any of you were thinking about that.”

Well. Not right now, anyway. If things get really bad, and there’s no other option…but he really, really, really hopes it doesn’t come to that.

“Have more faith in us,” Ignis says dryly. “Besides, even if you can’t be infected anymore, your pain tolerance likely stays the same. Though I admit we haven’t actually tested that.”

“There’s no need to--” Prompto flicks Noctis in the forehead. He flinches and makes a face. “Hey!”

“Payback for yesterday,” Prompto says cheerfully. “Anyway, looks like you’re fine on that front.”

Noctis narrows his eyes. If this was Insomnia, and also they were at least five years younger--okay, maybe four, maybe three, maybe two--that would be grounds for war. But those conditions don’t apply, and also Ignis and Gladio are literally two feet away from them, so maybe that’s not the best idea.

“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s eat and head out,” Gladio says. “We’ve got a long walk today.”

“We’ve got a long walk most days,” Prompto grumbles, and stuffs his face with protein bar.

It’s another quiet day. The clicker must have passed through. “I must admit, I’m not entirely comforted by how smoothly this has been going,” Ignis says with a frown, a couple hours in. “Even far from the cities, there are usually a few infected wandering around, or some other travelers. But all we’ve seen in the past few days is one clicker who walked away from us without stopping.”

“Maybe they were all in that horde,” Prompto points out. “There were kind of a lot of them, after all.”

“Perhaps.” But Ignis doesn’t look convinced.

A few hours after that, Ignis says, “Ah. I was right after all.”

They’re within sight range of Galdin Quay. There isn’t a whole lot of cover, either, so their view is pretty clear. Their view of over a dozen infected milling around the beach.

Gladio swears under his breath. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy,” he says. 

“Are we gonna go back?” Prompto asks, an uneasy tone in his voice. “Because it looks like we should go back. It really looks like we should go back.”

Disappointment and frustration curdles in Noctis’ stomach. They came all this way--

Ignis adjusts his glasses. “So you know how generally my plans are the right thing to do and following them brings a positive result?” he asks.

Noctis blinks. “Uh, yeah,” he says.

“Well.” Ignis sighs. “My new plan is incredibly stupid.”

“Wait, are you saying you think you know how to get past that?” Gladio says incredulously. “That beach is covered with infected, Iggy. There’s no way we can get in.”

“Yes, but take a closer look,” Ignis says, gesturing towards the beach. “The vast majority of them are clickers. In fact, of the seventeen infected I’ve counted, only two are runners. And both the runners are facing towards the water on the other side of the beach. None of the infected are moving around more than a few steps at a time. If we move very, _very_ quietly, Prompto can get close enough to take out the runners. The clickers will be drawn to the noise, but won’t be able to tell where the projectile came from.”

“I don’t have enough arrows for all the clickers, though,” Prompto points out. “And arrows break faster on clickers, so even if I got close enough--which I absolutely wouldn’t--I wouldn’t be able to reuse them, not even the heads. I’ll be losing ammo permanently.”

“We don’t need you to take down all of them,” Ignis says. “Just the two runners, and then the clickers shouldn’t be a problem.”

Prompto makes a face. “Yeah, but I really don’t like losing arrows, Iggy,” he says.

“And we don’t care for it either,” Ignis says. “However, there are far worse sacrifices to make.”

“Yeah, I know,” Prompto says, with a sigh. 

Ignis continues. “If we continue to move as quietly as possible, we may be able to sneak past them into the water on the other side of the dock. If we can swim into deeper waters, then even if the infected do hear us, we’ll be safe, as they are not known for their ability to swim.”

Noctis frowns. “There’s a hole in that plan, Iggy,” he says.

“I am not at all surprised,” Ignis says wearily. “What is it?”

“If there are infected on the beach, there are definitely gonna be infected in the building,” Noctis says. “How’ll we get past those?”

“As I said, if we remain in the water, they can’t reach us,” Ignis says. “Any that see us will plunge into the ocean and immediately sink. If there’s a boat, we can climb onto it from outside. Once we’re on the boat, we will of course be vulnerable to anything coming at us from the dock, but, well, that’s what guns are for, aren’t they? One of us can untether it with his knife while the others defend him. Once we’re away from the back dock, we’re in the clear.”

“Got another flaw for you, Iggy,” Gladio says flatly.

“Yes?”

“What if there’s no boat?”

Ignis sighs. “That is, of course, the greatest concern. But we came here in the hopes there would be one, did we not? Have the chances lessened any? If anything, we now don’t have to worry about any inhabitants wanting to keep it. Do we want to give up now, when the possibility we’ve been waiting for is so close?”

A brief silence falls. Then Noctis says, “Speaking as the person we’re doing all this for in the first place, I agree with Ignis.”

Ignis half-smiles. “Thank you, Noct,” he says.

“Aw, man.” Prompto scratches his head. “I kinda agree with Gladio, but if both you guys are in, I guess I’m in too.”

Their eyes all turn to Gladio.

“Well, fuck.” Gladio runs his hand down his face. “It’s hard to be the voice of reason when you’re all looking at me like that. Fuck it. Sure. Let’s do this.”

Prompto exhales. “I’ve never been happier I got a plastic bag for my camera,” he says. “All our stuff is gonna get soaked.”

“Besides your camera and batteries, none of our possessions are electronic,” Ignis says. “The protein bars come in packaging, we’ve no more fresh food, and the flashlights are waterproof. Water shouldn’t be an issue.”

“I have to say, this plan doesn’t actually sound that stupid,” Noctis says, raising an eyebrow. “You came up with it pretty fast, but you’ve accounted for everything I can think of.”

“My other concern is that there’s something I _didn’t_ think of,” Ignis says with a frown. “Perhaps with more time--”

Gladio interrupts him. “Part of it hinges on the runners not noticing us, right?” he says. “There’s no way of knowing when they’ll both be facing away from us again. We better do it now.”

“I suppose. Well then.” Ignis gestures towards the other side of the beach, towards the runners. “Who’s up for the extreme quiet game?”

They creep slowly and carefully along the edge of the beach, each of them holding their breath in trepidation for the moment they might be overheard. But the infected on the beach don’t seem to notice them. The occasional rattling clicks--far too many in one space, in Noctis’ opinion--don’t rise in pitch or turn into a shrill scream.

Finally, Prompto, at the head of the group, holds out his hand in the sign for _stop._ With agonizing slowness, he lifts up the bow already in his hand, and nocks an arrow as quietly as he can. The two runners facing the tranquil ocean waters haven’t moved yet. One of them, however, is very definitely about to, because Prompto lets go of the arrow and it swooshes with a _thunk_ right into the leftmost runner’s skull. 

The runner topples, but every infected on the beach lets their awareness of the sound known, with a roar of clicks and screams and rushing towards the source of the noise. Except for the one infected who doesn’t at all care about the noise, and only cares about the humans it’s just jerked its head around to see.

With a scream, it starts to barrel towards them. Prompto is significantly less slow to nock his next arrow, and manages to land a headshot well before the runner reaches them, but it’s still a closer call than Noctis would like. Prompto’s fast, but he only started learning the bow a few weeks after they left Lestallum, when they found it on the corpse of someone who maybe also could only get so fast between shots. He’s never had formal training, and it’s not meant to be used in quick succession anyway.

But he manages, and the clickers screech and dash to the new noise, and by now the left half of the beach is clear. If they just circle around and get into the water, and hope very hard that none of them clickers randomly decides to return to their spot, they can make it.

Is there a difference between hoping and jinxing yourself? Noctis doesn’t know. But when he was by himself in that store, he hoped more than he ever had before, and that sort of worked out, even if he wasn’t quite hoping for he got. And right now, he hopes they’ll make it. They don’t have enough ammo for both this and a potential shootout on the back dock. Splashing water will draw the clickers straight for them even if they’re trying to stay still. Please, _please_ let them make it--

They reach the water. Just as slowly, they try to move into it as quietly as they can. With the clickers on the other side of the beach, they should be safe, _should_ be--

The clickers are still on the other side of the beach. Slowly, Noctis and the others tread water towards the building, far enough out that anything that sees them will sink right to the ground underneath them without catching them. 

A sudden, much closer screech decides to test this theory.

A few, actually, rushing into view at the edge of the platform where the front dock ends. They’re close enough to the building that they’ve been noticed, whether by the sound of moving water or coincidentally happening to be within view, and three runners plunge after them, completely ignoring the depth of the water. They sink within seconds. Noctis feels relieved for a few moments--it worked!--before remembering that one of the runners was rather tall.

A strong hand grabs his foot and starts to pull him down.

It’s fast, too, and his head was only a little above water to begin with, so he’s underwater immediately and plummeting deeper. The runner that grabbed him has both hands on his foot now, and it’s looking up at him with raging eyes, its mouth wide open and bubbling.

Sure, it’s gonna drown, but not immediately. And now he’s close enough that the other two runners are reaching for him too. Being immune to the infection won’t stop them from tearing him open. He scrabbles for his gun, but his movements are slower in the water, and his arm being lower lets one of them grab it--

Three muffled bangs let loose. The head of the infected holding his foot jerks back, a cloud of red billowing out from its skull. The other two get the same treatment. Noctis tries to struggle out of the now looser grip on his foot and his arm, but it’s not going as quickly as he’d like. But a pair of arms from higher up grab onto him and _pull,_ and then he’s out, he’s up, his head’s above water and he’s gasping to breathe.

He hears Gladio from behind him swear, sounding half angry and half relieved. Prompto, a few feet in front of him, looks almost more terrified than he did back in the store. “Are you okay, Noct?” he asks, desperation in his voice.

Noctis manages to nod. “Yeah, I’m all right,” he says. 

“Can you swim on your own?” Gladio says behind him.

“Yeah, I’m--I’m okay, guys,” Noctis says, and Gladio lets go. 

Ignis, a couple feet from Prompto, mostly just looks sick. “This is my fault,” he says weakly. “I didn’t account for--”

“I’m _fine,_ Iggy,” Noctis says. “You guys got me out of there, so that’s all that matters. Like you said earlier, this is what guns are _for.”_

“That doesn’t change the fact that--”

“Can we just get to the boat?” Noctis interrupts. “Right now I really just want to get on the boat.”

Gladio circles from behind him to in front of him. “Noct’s got a point,” he says. “We can’t do anything here. If you guys wanna fuss over him, do it on a flat surface.”

_Like you wouldn’t join them,_ Noctis thinks wryly but decides not to say.

Ignis exhales. “As you say,” he says. “Let’s get moving.”

They swim in silence. Blessedly, nothing else comes screeching into the water. They’re almost there. Almost--

There’s no boat.

They don’t say anything.

It takes them a few moments before they silently turn back.

They’re soaking wet when they get back up to the edge of the beach, still not saying a word. The clickers are still on the other side of the beach, but that’s close enough that saying anything is inadvisable. Slowly, silently, they make their way back to where they were when they first spotted the occupied beach, far enough that speaking is okay.

Gladio drops his pack to the ground and takes off his jacket, twisting it to remove as much of the water as he can before wadding it up into a ball and pressing his face in it. A muffled loud swear escapes.

“Before you say anything, Ignis, that wasn’t your fault either,” Noctis says quietly. “We all thought it might be there. Hell, I was the one that mentioned Altissia in the first place.”

“Cold comfort, Noct,” Ignis says wearily.

“At least now we know for sure our guns work underwater,” Prompto says in an obvious attempt to lessen the dark pall hanging over them. “You know. In case we ever need that again. Which we won’t, because next time is going to go great.”

“Next time. Right.” Ignis repeats. He sits down heavily on the grass. 

Gladio’s jacket dangles from his hand, no longer being used as a muffler. “There’s still Cape Caem,” he says firmly. “My dad went there too, with the mayor and a couple other guys. I know they went on the water sometimes. This isn’t over yet.”

Ignis sighs. “Realistically, I know that,” he says. “But also knowing that almost losing Noct due to my own failure in oversight led to nothing in the end isn’t easy to put aside.”

Noctis puts down his pack and sits next to Ignis, putting an arm around his shoulder. “I’m okay,” he repeats. “Things don’t always work out, but the most important thing is that we’re all alive. As long as we’re alive, we can keep going.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Ignis says with a half-smile. 

_“I_ suppose we should get out of these wet clothes before we freeze to death,” Prompto says. “It’s still the afternoon. Think we can make it back to the outpost?”

“It won’t be fast, but it’s our only option,” Gladio says. “Unless we want to try roughing it out here. With no cover. Near a beach full of clickers.”

“A long walk back it is, then,” Noctis says with a sigh. “Everyone try to get as much water out of your clothes and packs as you can, and we’ll head off.” 

He stands up and holds his hand down for Ignis. “Come on,” he says.

Ignis takes it and stands up. He doesn’t say anything else, but he seems a little less like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

As they get as less soaked as they’re gonna get and leave, Prompto says, “Cape Caem, huh. Think it’s a nice place?”

“My dad and his friends liked it,” Noctis replies. “I don’t think it’s as fancy as Galdin Quay, though.”

“Sounded more like a place to go bond with your buddies,” Gladio says. “Which I guess we sort of count as.”

“Preeetty sure my dad and your dad and their friends weren’t quite the same as us,” Noctis says wryly.

“Only _pretty_ sure?” Prompto says, waggling his eyebrows.

Noctis shoves him halfheartedly. Then he makes a face and claps his hand on his forehead. “Shit,” he says.

“What is it? You forget something?” Prompto asks, looking slightly worried.

“Kinda, it’s just--I didn’t get to do any fishing,” Noctis says glumly.

Prompto bursts into laughter. “Dude,” he says. “One-track mind, I’m telling you.”

It helps improve the mood, at least. Ignis seems almost amused.

The walk back to the outpost is going to be long and unpleasant, with damp clothes in the evening. And the walk to Cape Caem will be much longer than to Galdin Quay. And supplies are getting low, and--and--Noctis doesn’t let himself think about any of that. The last year has been full of setbacks. Just because this one is larger doesn’t mean they can’t get through it.

And besides, if hope’s getting to be 50-50 at this point, that’s still 50 more than a lot of people have.

Noctis trudges forward, and the path ahead of him hasn’t stopped yet.


End file.
